How Your Heart Is Wired
by CaffeineChic
Summary: Everything vibrates at its own frequency


Everything vibrates at its own frequency. You just have to find it - that note, that pitch. His body connects with hers and she knows it is they that are vibrating but it feels like they are completely perfectly still while the rest of the universe shimmers and hums around them.

It is always like this (with him).

The meeting that refused to end on time (or anywhere near it) finally collapsed under the weight of its own superfluousness. The others filed out while she stayed behind, her presence drawing him back.

(this attraction.

physical.

mental.

literal.

they pull at each other.)

She has seated herself on the table - her feet planted on a chair, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her palm. She is quiet, but easily, peacefully so. Her toe taps.

She shifts. Her foot slips and displaces her shoe. It clatters to the metal floor. She rolls her eyes, lowers her leg with an aim to stretching her foot back into the pump. But suddenly he is there, before her.

(Before her. Before. He was a coil of wire. Turned in and around and over and over. Tight. Closed.)

His hand finds her knee before her foot finds her shoe. His fingers knead the underside, the soft flesh that is pliant to his touch. His thumb makes easy, familiar circles.

(He is still wire.

But now.

She has flipped a switch. A current flows.

He is magnetic.

So is she, she always was.

They are drawn together.)

She is not an easy person to love. She is stubborn and argumentative and more determined to be right than she is willing to accept that she is wrong. Her head always guides her because she does not (did not, before him) open her heart.

He is not an easy person to love. He is stubborn and argumentative and more determined to be right that he is willing to accept that he is wrong. His heart always guides him because he does not (will not, since her) close his heart.

(A fleet of iron filing civilians move as they do. Drawn to their lead. They draw circles with their people. Unending circles. As they circle each other.)

He is not an easy person to be loved by, for her at least. Because simply – he loves so much. He gives and gives and gives and does not ask, does not take. So she is under the weight of his love and cannot climb out from it (though rare are her attempts). It is not violent, it is not forced, but it is not soft and gentle. It is him. It is all encompassing. He does not do things by halves. Does not know how. She is surrounded by his love and it is new and it makes her nervous in ways she did not know she was capable of. (She had become used to being the peripheral focus of a man's affection.)

It is not the amount, the power, the focus of his love that perturbs her – it is, in fact, her own. That she cannot match it (she fears), that she pulls back too much (she knows), holds too much of herself secret, closed in (she wants to reveal, to unlock). He opens _this_ way only to her. A disquietude settles over her skin, her soul; she has become closed off, even to herself.

So she stills. She stops. She does not move. And waits. To see. To feel.

The pull.

(The tug.

The tow.

The desire.)

Towards him.  
She fairly lifts from the desk, drawn forward.

(Attracted.

Attracting.)

He meets her halfway.

The world shimmers around them (they oscillate within it.) Their mouths pause within a breath (shared across a molecule's width) and a smile blossoms, so mutual that its owner cannot be distinguished. She hums (not from the vibration of this, but from the rapture that he draws from within her – an echo of his own).

Two magnets. There is only so much they can resist before….

She concedes to the (to a) draw. Her mouth presses against his. Soft, eager, a flick of tongue along the line of a lip. He captures, grazes with teeth, sucks gently.

They kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss. Her tongue tracing his teeth, his teeth nipping lightly at her lips, their mouths meshing, caressing, deepening. A moan (a vibration) reverberates, rebounds from one to the other, back again. Kinetic. Building. He hitches her knee to his hip, pushing her skirt up, easing her back. She gasps, then giggles. (She never feels as steady as when he swings her off balance.)

"Here?"

"Here."

"Here…..and _there_. Gods."

Zipper, underwear, positions – opened, removed, altered as required. She cannot focus her vision beyond his eyes. (The shimmer of the larger field, too great, too intense, too…not him.)

He pushes inside her and there is nothing but this moment. (Two magnets - their fields equal, merged.) She reaches as he grasps, pulls him down as he draws her up. They move as one.

Her name, his name, their bodies combined as currents flow and charge between them.

(Sparks.

Explosions.

They detonate.)

The field around them expands, resonates outward. When her senses return, settle, she is surprised that the shockwave was not heard through the ship. She giggles. He grins. They share more than magnetism. They are deeper than attraction.

They force themselves to separate, to reshape themselves as their individual pieces (that fit, that draw, that complete a whole).

They step apart (but never _away_).

They will feel the pull

(The tug.

The tow.

The desire.)

no matter the distance.

Conceding to this (to them, to love) is not a weakness. Allowing herself to connect is not a frailty.

There is strength in the yielding.

He is her frequency.


End file.
